I am ready for my final symphony
by chupernatural
Summary: Sam and Dean hunt a succubi but there's more than meets the eye. The brothers find themselves ankle deep in new territory everywhere.


"A-ha!" Dean yelled from the other room. He was reading the newspaper, looking for a hunt, while Sam was in the shower. "I've found one, and I bet you're going to like it." He continued, yelling through the door, straining his voice to overpower the rushing water. Sam opened the door and stepped out, already dried and dressed, "I bet I won't", he replied, rolling his eyes.

"Succubus," Dean said while he threw his hands in the air, following Sam across the room. "I haven't seen one of these babies since you were at Stanford," he continued, "and she was the finest piece of-".

"Yeah, alright, wait, how do you know that's what we're looking at?" Sam questioned, since he's never seen one before.

"Three vics, all sucked dry of sperm, can only be one thing".

Sam sat down on the bed, pulling his socks on; strangely terrified of the enthusiasm Dean was exuding. "Aren't they like, actually, really, dangerous? Shouldn't we call Bobby or someone to help?"

"Nah, man, Dad taught me all about them, and I've already taken down a few, we can handle it especially with the Colt."

"Dean, look, I mean I know you're all gung-ho for a demon hunt, but shouldn't we be, I don't know, trying to find a way to get you out of your deal?"

"I told you, Sam, I get out of my deal, you drop dead and I'm not going to let that happen. I just want to save as many people as I can, Sammy, because there's no way to save me. Can you give me that?"

A few hours later, they were on the road, in Dean's baby, listening to Creedence.

"So, tell me what you know about succubi. I mean, all I know is what I've read, and that's a very extensive list." Sam inquired, still reluctant to be on this hunt, but eager to get as much information as he could.

"Of course it is, well, I mean, the reason they are so dangerous is because they can compel people." Dean replied, almost nonchalantly.

"Like Andy?" Sam asked, the name, the memory, a familiar wound.

"Yeah, exactly like Andy."

"Well shit dude, are you sure we can take it ourselves?"

"Yeah, we just need some necklaces fashioned out of iron to protect us from the compulsion."

"Okay, what else do you know?"

"They travel in pairs, there's always an incubus with the succubus, and they're like mated for life. Basically, the succubus sucks the sperm out of a bunch of men and there's some sort of transference thing and then the incubus impregnates some women and hello demonic spawn."

"Ew. Dude, that's disgusting."

"Oh, and I think they have some limited psychic abilities."

"That's just peachy. So, how do we kill it?"

"Well, as far as I know, they are like regular demons- salt, iron, latin. The whole nine yards." Dean replied, but as an additional point, brandished the Colt.

They pulled into a tacky, cheap, motel, early the next morning. The air was thick and misty, seeping into the Impala through the windowpanes. The motel reception light was off. Dean guessed they'd just have to sleep the last few hours of morning in the car. He looked in the mirror and saw Sam spread out as best he could in the backseat, uncomfortably asleep, and sighed. He lent the seat back and tried to rest, but every time he closed his eyes, he got to thinking about what would happen if they couldn't find a way to save him. Then he'd think of Sam, lying on that bed, cold and suspended, and his eyes would snap open, and flash to the mirror to check Sam was still breathing. Dean resolutely got out of the car, left the key, and went for a run to clear his mind. The thoughts plague him not only through the night but through the day, and there was no reprieve. He just wanted to escape.

Sam awoke to find himself alone in the Impala, locked inside, with the windows slightly down. Not that he'd have any chance of overheating in this weather. "Dean?" he asked hesitantly, as he climbed out of the backseat, but there was no reply. He stretched his entire body, twisted and stiff from the night before. He pulled out his phone, 10:34am, and dialed Dean's cell. He answered on the first ring.

"Good morning, Sammy."

"Where are you? Why'd you let me sleep this late?"

"I just went wandering, looking for some grub, I found a sweet bed and breakfast down the road that we definitely should stay at instead of that rundown motel, and they're still serving. You keen?"

"I guess I could go some pancakes."

Dean gave him the directions and told him to lock the Impala, with the key he stashed in Sam's left sock. When Sam arrived, he noticed that it was very modest and domestic, exactly why it was perfect in Dean's eyes, he gathered. He saw Dean sitting at the window table, sipping a coffee, and reading the newspaper.

"Hey," Sam said, as he approached.

Dean looked up and grinned, "Sammy, my boy, you're so fucking lazy these days."

"Dude, I just can't, fucking, fit in that backseat, okay? I need to get like twice the sleep to make up for it. Speaking of, where did you sleep? You got a room right? And just decided to leave me in the car?"

"Nah, man, I slept, uh, in the front seat, yeah, it wasn't great either, but what can you do when the motels are closed?" Dean lied.

Sam sighed but abandoned the topic. "So, where's the case at? You looking at the local news? Anything?"

"Well, the three murders are all in this general vicinity and I think there's a pub in the general centre, so I guess we should start there? Succubi need a loose, carefree atmosphere to hunt."

"Yeah, alright that sounds. Fuck, order me some pancakes. I need to go to the bathroom. Then let's grab the supplies."

The pub was packed with the local assortment. Sam and Dean were sitting at the bar, not drinking. Dean hated being at the bar but not drinking, it was like this was going against his very nature, but he needed to be on his guard. The woman sitting next to Dean leaned over, and against him, asking if she could buy him a drink, but he refused considerately, gesturing to his brother. She smiled, like she didn't mind, and left, taking her drink with her. Dean raised his eyebrows, but he was used to that sort of behaviour, and continued to glance around the bar casually. A few moments later, he felt himself getting aroused and saw his brother shifting uncomfortably. He guessed he should let him know what was happening.  
"Hey, Sam, so I forgot to mention, but succubi, their, um, scent, is a powerful aphrodisiac."

"Oh, so, oh."

"Yeah. It's here."

Sam looked around, "Uh, Dean, I thought you said the succubus took the form of an attractive woman? I mean, I'm not trying to be a dick, but there aren't that many attractive people here." This was Sam's way of saying that there was not a single beautiful woman in the bar.

Dean scanned the room, and finally, he noticed the eye-catching man sitting in the corner, the one that all the women were focusing intently on. "It's the incubus. We must have caught him trying to pick up." Sam followed Dean's gaze and realised their mistake. The man led the woman he was charming out the door, and the boys jumped off their stools and followed, keeping their distance. They went out into the alley beside the bar. The boys jumped around into the alley, aiming their handguns at the man, but he was gone. They turned around, and there was a stunning, strikingly beautiful woman standing face to face with them-

"Are you looking for me, boys?"

Dean aimed the gun at her, but couldn't bring himself to pull the trigger, it was like his brain just couldn't even imagine the possibility of shooting someone so angelic, her eyes were like-

"Dean," Sam yelled, breaking the trance, "She's compelling you! I thought the iron necklaces were supposed to protect us?" But he saw that Dean wasn't wearing his anymore.

"Didn't you know we can make ourselves unattractive if we want to? And that we're renowned for our sleight of hand. I mean, I'd be a successful magician, if I wasn't so starved for those delicious bodies of yours." She gave Dean a sultry look. Sam remembered the woman at the bar who offered Dean a drink; luckily he was still wearing his necklace.

"It would be a shame to kill you two, you're so devilishly handsome. I just can't bring myself to do it. But, I am going to have to give myself a head start, you understand. Dean, my love, why don't you mess up that pretty, little face of his?" Dean launched himself at Sam, but Sam was too quick, he ducked out of the way, dodging Dean's flailing fist. Dean stumbled forward a few steps and swung himself around to come back at Sam.

"Dean!" Sam yelled, trying to get through to his currently zombified brother, but it was ineffective, Dean was intent on bashing his head in. He lunged again, this time catching Sam off guard with a right blow to his jaw. Sam fell back from the impact and was suddenly on the ground, Dean sitting over him, smashing into his face repeatedly. Dean went to strangle him, but as soon as his hands touched the iron necklace around Sam's neck, the spell broke. "Sammy, I'm sorry." The succubus was long gone.

Dean was stitching up Sam's lacerated face, his mind sinking with guilt every single time he looked at the damage he had caused to his beautiful little brother. Sam knew it wasn't his fault, and how sorry he was for everything, Dean didn't need to say it again. "Sam," Dean started anyway, he couldn't stand himself sometimes, "all I want is to keep you safe and I can't even do that."

"Dean, you don't-"

"Sammy, just let me get this out, okay? I just don't know what I'd do without you; well I guess we know now. That it isn't even an option. I just, I just don't want to let you down anymore."

"Dean, it's okay, you have never let me down and you never will. You're my big brother, I look up to you, and I love you. Now, stitch and suture me up, so I don't bleed all over the room."

Dean went silent, and worked at his brother's face, gently and sweetly, making sure to cause as little pain as he could, but Sam still winced at his touch. Dean gave him some sleeping pills and put him to bed. Dean knew it would be another sleepless night for him, keeping watch over his baby brother.

Sam woke up in the morning from the stinging pain across his entire face, the drugs had worn off a long time ago. He felt Dean at the foot of the bed, like he had fallen asleep sitting on the edge. His legs were on the floor, but he was lying on his back, his left hand resting on Sam's knee. Sam smiled, glad that Dean had finally some rest. He extricated himself from the bed and went into the bathroom to look in the mirror. His face was red raw and very tender. Dean's ring did a lot of damage. When Sam came out of the bathroom, Dean was just waking up. They exchanged affecting glances but said nothing. The wounds and soothing of the night before was easily dismissed with talk of the hunt.

"So, that was a bust. But at least we know we're on the right track," Dean started, still lying on his back.

"Yeah, unfortunately, she can look like whoever she wants and now she knows we're here, so how do you suppose we find her?" Sam replied, walking across the room and standing over him.

Dean looked completely bewildered for a few minutes, but then a familiar grin crossed his face. "It's a long shot, but we could scry for the necklace she took?"

"I doubt that's going to work, Dean, don't we need an object to scry and why would she keep it anyway?"

"Nah, nah, your necklace is made from the same iron. I think it would work and I don't know, because she's an idiot, it's worth a shot isn't it?"

"I guess."

They set up the materials, Sam rolling his eyes, but hoping it would work.

"Have you even ever done this before, Dean?"  
"Uh, not exactly."  
"Let me do it, at least I know the Latin."

"Okay, okay."

Dean passed the crystal and the map over to him. Sam focused and said the scrying spell- the crystal spun on the map until it landed on a street near the bar they were at.

"Well, it's somewhere. Worth a look?"

Sam looked at Dean, and sighed in defeat.

"Alright, let's go."

The location was a seedy back alley, of course it was, and of course they went in the middle of the night, Sam thought to himself.

"So, it's around here?" He clarified.

"Yeah, we're practically standing on it."

"I don't see anything."  
"Well, that's probably because it's a fucking tiny little necklace and the succubus dropped it here and it's a waste of time like you thought," Dean snapped back.

Sam went silent and dropped his gaze to his shoes. He didn't want to fight with Dean if he could help it because they only had a few months left together. He had an idea though.

"Hey, Dean, the scrying only works in two dimensions."

"What?"  
"What if we're supposed to be looking underground?"

"Oh."

They both glanced over at the manhole on the other side of the alley. It was open. Dean picked scissors, again, and lost, again. They walked over to it and looked in, the first rung of the ladder was barely visible, but the rest was completely black. Dean swung his flashlight down, but it did very little. Sam didn't want to make his brother do this, and even if it was a very dangerous idea, he suggested they should both go. Dean didn't protest. Then, they were climbing down into the pit of darkness, Dean went first. The shadows surrounding him, Sam was only a few rungs above, but without his flashlight shining on Dean, he couldn't even be sure he was there.

"Dean?" Sam called out, just to make sure.

"Yeah. I'm here. I think I'm near the end." Dean answered, a lot further down than Sam thought, "OH GOD! What is that? Oh, okay. No, it's fine. I'm good."

"You good?"

"Yeah, I'm good. Yeah. But I don't think anything is down here. Well fuck me, I can't actually see."

Dean shone his flashlight up to show Sam the last few steps and then they were standing there.

"So, we're here. Now, what do we do?" Sam asked, shining his flashlight around, but there was no signs of anything down here and he didn't think it would be a good idea to go blindly looking since there were no landmarks and they would be lost.

"Shh, Sammy," Dean whispered while turning his torch off, "turn your flashlight off".

Sam complied and sank into the wall next to him. The only light was coming from the manhole above, except there was another light, in the distance down the tunnel. It was soft, and wavering.

"What is that, Dean?" Sam asked, starting to feel the adrenaline pumping.

"They're candles, Sam, we need to leave." Dean replied, panic in his voice.

"What's going on?"

"The succubus is the least of our worries. Go. Up. Now," Dean pushed Sam towards the ladder and Sam started climbing with Dean on his heels. When they reached the alley, Dean slid the grate back over.

"What's going on, Dean?"

"That was a witch's altar."

"So, we've faced witches before? They're not exactly 'dangerous' in combat, since they are human."

"The altar was set up for summoning a golem."

"Like an elemental golem or a homunculus?"

"A humongous what?"

"A homunculus. It's, like, a fake human being."

"Yeah, yeah, that one."

"The plot thickens" Sam exclaimed, "alright so what do we know about golems then? And also, why does this witch have the necklace?"

"Well, my guess is that she summoned the succubus."

"Wait, what do you mean summoned?"  
"Succubi are demons, Sam; witches get their power from demons. I guess the witch needed a fuckload of power to summon the golem and the succubus gave it to her. And golems, they're like identical to humans, except they are immortal, ageless, and they have various superhuman traits depending on the witch who created them."

"So basically, you're saying, they're impossible to find and kill."

"Its life-force is directly tired to the witch who created it. So we kill her, we kill it."

"Why do you assume it's a she, Dean? Remember that guy in the bar? The one who directly lead us to the succubus and then disappeared? I mean, I thought he was the incubus but maybe he's the witch since he bailed."

"Good point, Sammy. Let's head back to the hotel for the night."

As soon as they get in, Sam brings up last night, eager to rekindle the topic of saving Dean.

"I'm going to save you," he said determinedly, "Dean, I can't watch you die, and you can't ask me too."

"Nobody's asking, Sammy, I'm telling you- you try to save me, so help me God, I will stop you."

Sam sat down on the bed and looked up at his brother, his lip quivering, all the bent up emotion of the last few months welling up inside him.

"Dean," Sam pleaded, "I'm not ready to lose you. Will you please just help me find a way to save you?" His voice cracked midway through the sentence. He looked up, trying to hold back his tears.

"Sammy," Dean whispered, unsure of how to comfort his brother. He walked over and put his hands on either side of Sam's face, "I can't, I don't know what to do. I can't let you save me. I did this for you." He leant down and kissed the top of Sam's head.

"I can't let you die, I won't let you die. I don't, Dean, I don't know how to live without you." Sam clasped his hands over Dean's and closed his eyes, burying himself in his touch. Dean breathed in deeply, and dropped his hands.

"Don't let go, please. I need to remember you." Sam grabbed his brother's hips before he stepped away and pulled him close, he leant his head against his hip, breathing in his scent, treasuring Dean's very presence. Dean touched Sam's face delicately, the wounds still fresh, "I'm sorry," he said, softly.

"It's okay," Sam replied, pulling Dean down onto the bed next to him, "you're okay. We're okay."

Dean lies back on the bed, refusing to look at Sam's face, at the only constant in his life, at the damage he caused to the one person who has stood by him through everything. Sam bent down and kissed him, but Dean didn't kiss him back.

"Sammy, don't do that," Dean said, when Sam gave up. They had used to be this close, a long time ago, but they had grown up.

"Why the fuck not, Dean? You're on the fucking chopping block here and you're not letting me help you so just shut up and let me have this." Sam pressed his lips to Dean's once more, and felt Dean's body relax under his touch, giving in to their mutual desperation. Dean raised his arms and wrapped them around Sam's neck, trapping him in the kiss.

"Dean," Sam started to say, consumed by the possibility of losing his brother forever, but Dean interrupted him, "just don't." Sam conceded to Dean's smoldering touch and let himself be consumed by his insatiable desire for Dean. Sam swung his leg over so he could sit on Dean and ripped his shirt off. Dean had already leaned up to kiss him when he'd finally escaped from it. He helped Dean rid himself of his shirt as well. Their skin met in a flurry of passion manifesting in impatient kisses that didn't quite stay on the lips. Sam pushed Dean back down onto the bed and unbuttoned his belt, Dean arched his back so that he could slide it out and discard it. Sam paused, and looked at Dean's face; the raw emotion pouring from his eyes was a beautiful sight that Sam had not seen in years. Dean broke the moment when he got frustrated by Sam just staring at him and started unbuttoning his jeans. Sam stood up so that Dean could shimmy out of his jeans, his Calvin Klein briefs left nothing to the imagination. Dean's body was perfectly sculpted. Sam dropped his pants as well. His white Tommy Hilfiger boxers were less restricting but were still stretched to accommodate his arousal. They had never gone this far before, preferring to kiss and brush up against each other in their youth but now Dean could see that Sam was ridiculously endowed.

"Been holding out on me, haven't you?" Dean grinned from the bed at Sam standing awkwardly across the room.

"You have no idea." Sam replied, determination and enthusiasm spread across his face, as he strutted across the room and mounted his brother. Their erections straining in between them as their lips crushed together furiously. Sam slid Dean's underwear off, releasing his aching erection. Sam nudged his own underwear down so Dean could compare, as Sam knew he wanted to. Sam, however, was more focused on what was in front of him. He grasped Dean's cock firmly; Dean flinched at the direct contact, but Sam ignored him and started building a steady rhythm. Dean's body relaxed even further, and he closed his eyes, focusing all his energy into the motion of Sam's hand. Sam leant down and touched his lips to the tip and Dean's hips inclined into him in reflex. Sam felt a smile form on his lips at Dean's impatience and rolled off him.

"Hey, what are you doing?" Dean demanded indignantly.

"I just, I'm just grabbing supplies." He replied.

"What do you mean?"

"Dean, I want to fuck you and I need lube." Sam stated matter-of-factly, there did not and there was not going to be an argument about this.

"Oh. Right. Well, it's not like I've done this before. So excuse me." But Dean did not fight him on it.

"You're excused." Sam responded while digging through his bag for it. When he found it, he crawled back onto the bed. Dean's face was twisted in a combination of awe and mortification.

"So, how's this work then?" Dean asked, shifting uncomfortably.

"Just shut up, lie back and relax."

Dean did as he said and closed his eyes for good measure. Dean could hear Sam working himself with the lube and it was turning him on immeasurably.

"Are you ready?" Sam asked, hesitation in his voice. Dean opened his eyes and saw his brother perched over him, his cock in his hand, looking about ready to burst.

"Just do it." He replied and closed his eyes again. Dean felt the tip of Sam's cock pressed against him and he shivered from the slightly cold sensation, but he thought it felt pleasant until Sam got too eager and slammed into him. Dean's entire body tensed in momentary agony before he calmed down and got used to the feeling of having something so considerable inside him. He wrapped his arms around Sam's neck and pulled him down into a kiss. Their bodies felt so intimate at that moment he forgot where his ended and Sam's began. Sam's weight pressed down on Dean, their muscles sleek and ablaze, searing together in their mutual self-destruction. Dean's body was opening up to Sam in ways that eliminated his self-control completely. He slammed his hands down on Dean's chest, holding him in place, his hips colliding with Dean's viciously. Dean's breath was coming out in whimpers. Sam's in groans. Sam moved his right hand to grasp Dean's cock, gripping too tightly in his haste, Dean cringed. He built up his rhythm again, watching his brother's face as the pleasure and pain melded together, and found balance, harmony, symmetry. Sam could feel the pressure rising inside of him but he didn't want it to end. He didn't want to let his brother go. He didn't want to watch his brother die. So he held on. He held on with all his strength, all his passion, all his fury. He let it consume him; fill him from his head to his toes, out through his fingertips, and everywhere else. Dean went numb after a while, his body had taken such a punishment that it retreated to a place where he couldn't feel anymore. He couldn't feel his brother tearing apart his skin; he couldn't feel the hopelessness, the loneliness, the pain, the hurt, and everything else the past few years had brought with them.

Sam woke up first for once, acutely aware of the heat their proximate bodies were generating. Dean's arms were wrapped around him. Sam had almost forgotten that Dean was a hugger in his sleep. Sam carefully extricated himself from his hold and stood up, watching his brother sleep peacefully for the first time. He smiled to himself, enjoying the moment before Dean woke up and everything got awkward. He dashed into the bathroom to have a shower hoping the sound of the water wouldn't wake Dean but when he got out, Dean was nowhere to be found. Sam sighed exasperatedly. He dressed himself, throwing back on his jeans from yesterday but found a new shirt. He dialed Dean's cell but it just rang out. Sam sat down at the table and buried his face in his hands.

Dean was back in the alley, he didn't wake Sam because it was dangerous and he couldn't let his brother take this risk. Dean was already dying so it didn't matter to him. He felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, Sam, but he turned it off. He looked around briefly to make sure no-one was there before he started climbing down into the sewer. There was more light coming through now that it was daytime but it was still hard to see. He ventured forth into the tunnels, following the direction of the candles they saw last night. He found the altar, it was discarded recently. Dean sighed to himself and picked up the remnants of a hex bag. They scryed once, they could try again. He backed up the way he came, gun and flashlight aimed into the darkness waiting but there was nothing there. He climbed out of the manhole and was immediately thrown against the wall, dropping his gun.

"Hello, Dean, you just don't give in, do you? I guess I'll have to teach you a lesson," the succubus taunted as she held him against it.

"You can't compel me this time, bitch." Dean flipped his hands up and pushed her off him. Ducking down to grab his gun, he barrel rolled away and aimed up at her.

"Dean, Dean, Dean, you should know, salt rounds aren't going to hurt me," she smiled down at him, "not at my pay grade, bucko."

Dean chuckled softly and pulled the trigger, the holy bullet sliced through the breeze into her chest, her body spasmed, sparked and crashed to the ground.

When Dean arrived back at the hotel, Sam was waiting patiently for him. Sam was used to him disappearing for hours with no explanation.

"The succubus is dead, and I got a lead on the witch." Dean said and escaped into the shower. Sam guessed they weren't going to talk about last night. He wasn't sure if he wanted to revisit it just yet either, they had a crossed a few lines. When Dean got out, Sam asked him about the succubus. Dean said he went wandering around the bar and walked into her. Sam didn't buy it, but was glad Dean was okay.

The next day, they were having breakfast again. This hunt was taking too long. Sam wanted to get moving, he wanted to be done with it, and he wanted to save his brother.

"Alright, so succubus is dead by some miracle. Now what? The incubus is going to be angry and if he found the body, he knows we have the colt." Sam pondered this thought for a moment.

"Yeah, but they are much, much weaker. He shouldn't even be a problem on his own. Plus he's probably turned tail and run off because of the colt."

"Does killing her mean the witch loses his power?"

"Yeah, but not the golem, because the golem is now tied to the witch's very existence, not the demonic influence."

Dean got out the scrying map and crystal again, hoping the hex bag he grabbed will help them find the witch. It landed on their hotel. Sam and Dean exchanged panicked glances and slowly turned towards the door. The door slowly creaked open, standing in the shadowed doorway was a statuesque man, his skin was like pale moonlight and his hair cascaded down his face in black tar strands. His eyes were what grabbed Sam and Dean however; they were blood red with golden irises. It was almost surreal, even to the boys who had spent their whole life in an unnatural reality. Dean knew this was the golem. The man opened his mouth as if to speak but the sound that leaked out was part bird cry and part lion roar. It chilled Sam down to his bones. Following behind it was the man from the bar; he strutted in like he owned the place.

"Witches", Dean thought, "they are all proud motherfuckers who don't know what they're getting in to."

"I am on a mission from God," he announced, "and I must kill Dean Winchester".

"That's not God you're talking to." Dean replied.

It terrified Dean that this witch knew his name but he was too scared of the golem's power to hang around and chat so he charged at the man with his knife. But the golem's eyes focused on him and he collapsed to the floor screaming, consumed with the sensation of his blood boiling in his veins. The sound of his screams filled the room however they were not loud enough to cover the sound of the colt firing. As the roaring bullet flung itself across the room aimed straight for the witch's chest, reality suspended for a split second. In the time it took Sam to blink, the golem had blocked the bullet's path. It ricocheted off his chest and lodged itself in the bed frame. Sam's confidence faltered. He couldn't fire again for fear of it bouncing back into his brother. Then suddenly, the thing was on top of him, its cement-like fists colliding repeatedly with his already damaged face, creating new wounds and re-opening old ones. His eyes lost focus, the pain overwhelming his senses, everything went black.

When he woke up, he was lying on his bed, with a soothing hand stroking his blood-caked hair. His eyes were too swollen to open but he's known the touch of that hand his entire life. Sam tried to speak but the words got caught in a cough, and he heard his brother whisper soothing sounds coaxing him to sleep. The adrenaline of the fight had run its course through his system leaving him hollow and breathless. He slept for what felt like days, waking only to the touch of his brother trying to get him water. Finally, when he awakened properly, it was night time and Dean was sprawled asleep in his own bed, but had left a plate of food and water, some painkillers, bandages and a note for Sam in case he woke up- "Sam", the note read, "you're safe now." It was a promise, as much as a piece of information. He stood, testing his body, but it was mostly intact. He gulped down a few sips of water, the cold chill of it itching the back of his throat, threatening a coughing fit, but he was fine. He climbed into his brother's bed, wrapping his arm around him and resting his head on the back of his neck. "Sam," Dean said, the motion having woke him from his light sleep, "are you okay?" He jolted upright in alarm- his first instinct to protect. "I'm okay, Dean, seriously." Sam replied, and Dean laid back, turning over to face his brother.

"I shot the witch while the golem was on you," Dean whispered.

"I know, and I'm grateful."

"I guess we can get moving now."  
"What about the incubus?"  
"He'll be long gone now; we may as well disappear too."

"Oh. Where to?" Sam started to rise.

"Let's not worry about that." Dean replied, pulling him back, nuzzling into him. Their lips brushed together, in an act that was not built on desperation, but of affection.


End file.
